Blood on the Sand
by Techimmortal
Summary: XI-4411, known as 'Fixxer' by his squad, is sent on a mission with his unit to investigate a nearby settlement with suspected rebel ties. However, after unknowingly committing atrocities in the name of the Empire, Fixxer is forced to question everything he knows about the life he's lead. (Warning: Somewhat graphic)
1. Chapter 1

Heyo, Tech here. This is the second story I've written on here, so read at your own risk.

This is just my take on what it must be like to be a Stormtrooper questioning his morales. Theres slightly graphic content, so T to be safe I guess.

Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

 _Running_

He was running.

Where was he running? He didn't know, but he knew he had to get away

There was blood on him, lot's of it. It wasn't his, but that only made his stomach curl more.

He gripped his blaster tightly, his knuckles white underneath the gloves he wore. He knew why he carried it, but he wondered if it mattered. If they caught him, his fate would be the same.

After all, in the Empire, the punishment for treason is death.

 **4 Hours Prior**

XI-4411 checked over his standard issue E-11 blaster, the dim light that was on in the inside of the tank he was currently riding in made seeing difficult, and the slight rocks every once in a while as it traversed the unpaved road towards their destination didn't help either.

He was standing next to his squad mates, specifically two of his good friends, XI-1245 or 'Tank', and XI-0999, conveniently known as 'Nines'.

XI-4411 was known as 'Fixxer' to his friends. Nines gave it to him the day he was designated medic for the squad, and Fixxer thought it fit quite well. He thought all their nicknames fit quite well, despite what some of the superiors thought.

Suddenly, the comms in his helmet came on with a low static, the voice of his commander coming in gruffly. "All Troopers, lock and load, two clicks out." Fixxer could hear the guns being readied, himself included as he flicked off the small safety on his weapon. He could hear Tank behind him, pulling back the slide on his DLT-19 heavy rifle, his orange shoulder pad contrasting heavily against the pure white of his armor. They didn't call him Tank for nothing.

This operation was different from what his team was usually doing, and apparently, more dangerous. Normally, his team was stationed in the town as peacekeepers, protecting the townsfolk, and of course Imperial interests. Keeping the peace required a strong Imperial presence, he knew this. He and his squad were dispatched to suppress an "uprising" somewhere outside the town. A good ways, judging from the fact they had been sitting in the tank for some time. Nines was sitting in front of him, fidgeting with his weapon. Tank spoke up, "What's wrong Nines? Don't tell me you're gettin' nervous?" Nines shot back defensively "I'm not nervous! Just...worried. We've been on guard duty ever since we came to this desert wasteland, and now they dispatch us to suppress rebel activity? I don't know..."

Fixxer chimed in "Come on Nines, you heard about the recent rebel attacks like the rest of us, you can't really be that surprised." "Yeah, but that didn't happen anywhere near us! Plus, didn't comman-" "ETA one minute!" one of the drivers yelled to the back, cutting off Nines' retort. Tank spoke, "Relax, it'll go smooth, always does. N' if anything happens to you, Fix' will patch you up, right Fix'?" Fixxer nodded, and Nines let out a sigh. "It's not me I'm worried about." The comms came alive again, and the commander began barking out orders. "All teams, move out! Secure the area and sweep for contraband. Round up the locals!"

The back doors of the armored vehicle opened, and the Storm Troopers began pouring out. In front of them was a small, rundown settlement of mostly makeshift homes. The inhabitants looked quite poor, Fixxer noticed, and wondered what they could possibly be hiding here. " _Then again, the slums is usually where this sort of stuff goes down._ " The area around the settlement was slightly hilly, with tall grass stretching for miles around it. Nines spoke into the comms, "Heh, seems like no matter how far you drive on Lothal, there's still all this damn tall grass."

The team leader called out, "Alright, you heard command, we're turning this place upside down!" Storm troopers began to move through the shanty's and shacks, and soon enough Fixxer could hear the locals yelling as troopers ransacked their homes. He approached a nearby hut with his two squad mates, and Tank swiftly kicked down the door. Inside was an old man who quickly put his hands in the air, fear evident on his face. " _Smart move_ " Fixxer thought as he began sifting through the mans meager belongings. He spoke up to his squad mates, voice somewhat muffled by his helmet, making him sound slightly robotic. "Contraband? Can these people even afford contraband?" Tank chuckled at that.

The team dug around the man's home, only to find nothing. Fixxer felt only slight pity for the man to have his home ransacked like that, but he knew the mission was more important. They exited the hut, and he could hear the blaster fire and screams. "Seems some of the locals are not as compliant." Tank piped up. Nines only grunted in response, and they made their way to the center of the settlement, where the rest of his team had rounded up much of the inhabitants. Their team leader was standing in front of the crowd of locals, an Imperial-issue ration pack in his hand. "These ration packs are issued only to Imperial personnel, which means these-" He motioned to the couple of small crates filled with ration packs "-are stolen." He pointed his finger to the sky, and waved it in a circle, motioning to his men. "Lock them up in the transport vehicles."

Fix knew the punishment for stealing Imperial property. If you weren't a rebel and outright killed, they sent you to one of the Empire's outer rim mining colony worlds. He'd never been stationed at one before, but he knew any trooper dreaded being sent there, and the reaction from fugitives who were told they were being sent there told him all he needed to know. If you were sent there, you probably weren't leaving. Which is why, as he watched the crowd of civilians, men, women, and children of all races be ushered to the transport vehicles, his stomach began to knot. He completely missed the call of his team leader, his eyes still glued to the crowd. Tank snapped him out if his thoughts by responding to the team lead. "Copy that, sir." Fix followed his squad as they moved towards a slightly larger shack. "You looked a little lost back there Fix, you good?" Nines asked. Fixxer swallowed the lump in his throat before responding. "Y-Yeah, all good." This time, Tank spoke, "Well, if you didn't hear, team lead says the north-eastern part of the settlement hasn't been cleared yet, so that's on us."

As the squad walked, Fixxer could see people being dragged out of their homes, witnessing on more than one occasion a defiant local be gunned down by Stormtroopers. Something wasn't sitting right in his stomach, and as his squad walked up to the entrance of the shantily built wooden and metal shack, the feeling only intensified.

Tank slammed on the door with his hand, and when there was no response, he attempted to kick it down. The door wouldn't budge, and Fixxer could hear the hurried footsteps of whoever was inside attempting to go...somewhere. There were no windows or back doors, so where were they going? Suddenly, from behind them, Fixxer heard his team leader shout. "The doors not gonna budge, just light the place up and get it over with!" Tank halted his attempts to knock down the door by force, instead taking a few steps back, shrugging as he spoke, "You heard 'em. Squad, light it up."

Tank and Nines lifted their weapons, but Fixxer remained still. " _Was that...?_ " He could have sworn he heard someone speak, it almost sounded like they said..." _Mama?_ ". "Fix, hey, Fixxer!" He shook his head, lifting his weapon at the shack. " _No, I'm just-I'm just hearing things._ " Tank looked at him for a few seconds longer, before turning back to the shack. The muffled moving could still faintly be heard inside.

 **"Fire!"**


	2. Chapter 2

Yo yo, Tech here. Got chapter two here for ya, somewhat shorter but hopefully it lives up to your standards.

Also, forgot it in Chaper 1, but heres the uh, disclaimer or whatever.

Ya boi don't own Star Wars, or any of the characters yadda yadda yadda. Enjoy.

* * *

 **"Fire!"**

The sound of blasters filled the air. Red beams pierced the shack, it's wood and metal walls standing no chance against the onslaught of fire.

Fixxer pulled the trigger. Then again, and again and again. His mind was blank, and his finger kept pulling the trigger until Tank put a hand on his shoulder. He was sure his squad knew something was up with him, but he really just hoped his team leader and other officers didn't notice. He gave a curt nod to Tank, who hesitated for a second before nodding back. Nines made his way to the door, exclaiming. "Man, we _shredded_ this thin-". His sentence was cut off by a small blue bolt striking the doorway to the shack, sending sparks over Nines as he jumped back.

"Whoa, shit!" Nines exclaimed. Fixxer turned towards where the shot had come from, his weapon quickly raised as he assessed the threat.

"No! You bastards!" A man screamed, firing more bolts at them from up the street (more of a dirt path really). Fixxer took cover behind another shack as his two squad mates moved up, taking cover behind more of the small buildings in front of him. The man continued to fire wildly, blue bolts striking shacks and shanties, sparks flying up around them.

Fix noticed the man, who he could now see was a blue Rodian male, appeared to be in hysterics. His shots were wild, almost like blind fire, but he was firing enough to keep Fixxer pinned anytime he tried to return fire. He assessed his situation, noticing that his two squad mates had moved up closer to the hysterical man, taking cover behind shacks.

Suddenly, the mans erratic gunfire stopped. Fix peeked around the corner, seeing the Rodian standing, almost paralyzed. The small pistol blaster was still in his outstretched hand, his finger still pulling the trigger that emitted no blasts. His eyes, Fixxer noticed, were glued to...to the shack he and his squad had just sprayed down. Fixxer felt it again, that feeling in his gut

Tank ran from behind his cover, charging the Rodian, Nines right on his tail. The suspect made no move, and was promptly tackled into the dirt by Tank's massive form. Fixxer could hear the audible "oof!" from all the way up the path. But his focus was now shifted. " _W-why...why was he looking at the shack?_ "

He could hear the Rodian yelling again. "What have you done! You **monsters**!"

Fix turned slowly, his eyes glued to the shredded shack. He made his way to it, one step at a time. His heart was was hammering in his chest. Something about the Rodians reaction, the way his eyes seemed glazed over when he was looking at the shack. He paid no heed to his squad, who were currently in the middle of subduing the now struggling shooter.

He arrived at the door of the shack. The mass of blaster fire had nearly taken the door off it's hinges, and Fix could see through a slight crack the reason Tank hadn't been able to kick it down with brute force. Somebody had blocked the door with what looked like every piece of furniture the small shack had. Fixxer hesitated, before lifting his hand, and giving a slight push. The door didn't budge, so he gave another, more forceful shove.

He could hear things crashing to the floor, the door falling off it's melted hinges only moments later. Fix took a step inside the shack, once dark, now lit up by the many holes in the walls. His eyes scanned the room, " _Why had that man acted like that? Surely if it was just his home, he wouldn-_ "

His heart stopped. " _Oh n_ _o..."_


	3. Chapter 3

Heyo, chapta' 3. This is where the content gets lowkey graphic so, beware (?)

Also, I'm sorry I have this horrid tendency to leave every chapter at a cliff hanger, so I give you my permission to lynch mob me once the story is done.

Disclaimer: I don't own this show obviously. Do I have to put this on every chapter? That's doin the most.

* * *

" _Oh no._ "

Fixxer's heart stopped, his eyes frozen on the two slumped human forms in the corner of the shack. " _Oh no._ " The thought repeated again in his head, and he could feel his knees get shaky.

Fixxer had seen blood and death before. After all, he was a Stormtrooper medic. A few months ago, a firefight erupted near his guard post. He had been too late, arriving as the final blasts were fired, but his brethren had been victorious, which he was glad for. He had treated a few of his teammates, but the whole ordeal had left him feeling...sick.

He had been ordered to check for rebel survivors in Kurt's Cantina, where the shootout had started. It quickly morphed from a Cantina brawl into a full fledged street shootout, but the street had been relatively clear of the dead. The Cantina, Fixxer quickly realized, was a different story. Bodies lay strewn around the entire bar. Troopers, rebels with blaster still in hand, and bystanders. He was alone inside, the rest of his unit sweeping the streets, his two squad mates included.

Fixxer peered around the room. It was...a _bloodbath._ The silence was deafening, only broken by the silent drips coming from one of the bodies slumped over the counter. He made his way around the room, prodding the three dead troopers first for any signs of life. When there was no response from either three, he turned his attention to to the rest of the cantina.

Another, more thorough look revealed something that formed a pit in Fixxer's stomach. Not only were there no survivors, but there were more dead innocent bystanders than rebels and troopers combined. It looked as if both parties fired on each other without thought for the crowd between them. The fact that so many innocents had been caught in the crossfire left a sick feeling in the pit of Fixxer's stomach.

The same feeling he was getting right now, but increased tenfold.

Because under one of the slumped forms in the corner of the shack, was another body. The body of a small child, unmoving.

Fixxer dropped his weapon, his breath hitching, chills traveling down his spine as he laid his eyes upon the form of a woman, laying over her daughter. Fixxer took a shaky step, holding his breath. " _Please...don't be..._ ". He took another shaky step, then another, stopping only a few feet away. " _No, no no no please no._ "

Fixxer fell to his knees, his eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at the small form. There was blood covering both the inhabitants, the mother having taken most of the blaster fire as she attempted to shield her daughter from harm, but her attempts were in vain. Black scorch marks covered her back, fresh blood still pouring from many of the wounds. Her child had been hit as well, and he shuddered again, his eyes resting upon her unmoving, scarred form. He could feel the bile rising up in his throat.

He had to know. Know if he could still save her. Fixxer shakily reached over, his right arm reaching behind the little girls knees, his other around the back of her head as he brought her to him. Dark blood dripped from her form on his snow white armor, but he didn't even notice.

No movement. No breath. No _pulse._

His heart sank, eyes locked onto the girls face. It was peaceful, almost as if she were sleeping.

There was a thought, recurring in his head, nonstop like a twisted mantra.

" _I did this...I did this..._ "

" _What have I done?_ "

Fixxer stared at the lifeless form in his arms, breathing shakily. There were a million thoughts going through his head. " _I killed this child._ " " _Why? For what?_ " " _She didn't have to die...she didn't have to._ "

He had never killed before. He was prepared to, for the Empire and for his brothers, but this? An unarmed _**child?**_ This wasn't supposed to happen! Casualties of war are one thing, but this...this was murder. He was a killer, not a soldier.

There was blood on his gloves, and he could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks under his helmet. Fixxer's mind was like a tornado, his thoughts shifting from the Rodian who had fired at them for killing his family, to the moments he pulled the trigger, his blaster bolts piercing the shack, piercing the girl and her mother within. Finally, his thoughts landed on his orders, his superiors. " _She didn't have to die."_ he thought again. " _I did this...but...but **they** killed her._ "

Fixxer felt anger, anger and despair. His mind was going to a dark place.

His arms still shaking, he set the child back down next to her mother gently. His hands came to his head when a sudden realization dawned on him. " _I can't do this, I can't fight if this is what they want me to do."_

 _"I have to leave."_

 _"Now."_

Fixxer stood up, closing his eyes as he looked away. He couldn't bear to look any longer. His thoughts were muddled, muddled and _dark._

Fix made his way to the door, but paused when he noticed his blaster still on the ground of the shack. He made to pick it up out of reflex, but suddenly stopped himself. After what he had witnessed- no, after what he had _**done,**_ his mind set itself down a path of darkness, a darkness he had not felt before, and one that left him questioning a great many things. " _But if the Empire finds me..._ ". He grabbed the blaster after a moments hesitation. If the Empire found him, he knew what he had to do. " _I can never go back...never._ " Fixxer turned, making his way to the doorway, and walked outside.

He stepped into chaos. Shacks and huts burned, the night sky filled with a thick black smoke as homes and livelihoods went up in flames. Blaster fire could be heard, and the screams soon followed. His senses had been dulled inside the shack, his mind too preoccupied to notice the carnage outside. Reality had set in like a punch to the gut.

" _Run."_ his brain told his legs. He sprinted for the small trail that signaled the end of the settlement, and the start of Lothal's expansive grassy plains.

Plains that stretched _miles._

It didn't matter. He was running, and he would keep running until he died of exhaustion, or the Empire found him.

" _Hopefully, the former._ "


	4. Chapter 4

Ayoo, chapter four. Sorry for takin' so long with this one, but once spring break ended, well, had to return to reality. School work and real life n' whatnot.

I feel like the quality of my chapters vary depending on how high/tired I am when I write it. Oh well, judge for yourself, I just write this because Star Wars is awesome, and Rebels is a good show. Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

Zeb was expecting a couple of things when he woke up that morning. For starters, he expected to be woken up by either Ezra or Chopper. It was the latter today, a certain shock rod being his weapon of choice. Yes, he had expected that, which is why he decided he would spend _this_ morning relaxing, listening to his favorite music off the old stereo-box, and watching the sun rise over the plains of Lothal. At least, that's what he expected.

Zeb rubbed the sore spot on his back where the shock had abruptly woken him from his sleep. It just _had_ to be in the early morning too, the droid didn't even have enough mercy to let him sleep in, especially after the mission they pulled last night. He expected to be sore, because it went wrong, as per usual. He recalled Kanan's words just before they departed. " _What can go wrong?_ " "The entire operation being a trap, that's what." He grumbled to himself as he stood up.

He sighed, picking up his stereo as he made his way to the Ghost's common room. Ezra wasn't in his bunk when that scrap pile of a droid had woken him up, so Zeb assumed he was awake. It wasn't rare for Ezra to be awake at this hour, especially if Kanan thought of a new training regime for them to do. Zeb could tell Kanan was nervous when it came to Jedi training, something about not being ready. But Ezra seemed thrilled enough to start learning, so that counted for something at least.

The door opened with a _swoosh_ , and Zeb's eyes immediately drifted to the caf machine. He saw Kanan talking to a very tired looking Ezra as he made his way over, and it was clear that Kanan had got another one of his spontaneous Jedi training training ideas, and unsurprisingly Ezra was _not_ thrilled to have it happen at sunrise . " _Sucks for the kid._ " He thought as he started up the caf machine.

Yeah, Zeb expected to get shocked awake, he had expected to see Kanan and Ezra training. He expected the caf to be bitter, not going into town for supplies due to the recent increase in imperial activity can do that.

Zeb also expected to sit back, listen to music and relax when the Ghost's ramp came down, the cool morning breeze causing his fur to rustle. What Zeb was _not_ expecting, however, was the body of a stormtrooper, laying facedown in the grass only meters away from the ghost, behind a tall rock formation, one of the many dotting the plains.

"Oh, _karabast."_

* * *

 **One hour prior.**

The chirping of some insect or another could be heard, the only thing breaking the overwhelming silence. Fixxer walked clumsily, exhausted and dehydrated. The last of his water ran out nearly an hour ago, and he wondered if there was any way out of the situation he had put himself in.

The Empire had yet to show. He tore the comms unit from his helmet hours ago in panic, so he was completely blind to their movements. " _But that doesn't mean they're blind to mine._ " He thought, shuddering.

Fix had no idea how long he had been running, or how long ago he ran out of energy and started to walk...or how long ago he started to stumble. His mouth was dry, and his legs burned, but the grip on his blaster never loosened. There was still nothing for miles, except for the grass and occasional rock formation. He could see one up ahead, a massive rock on a small hill, blocking his view beyond.

He came to the base of the hill, and fell to his knees. " _Maybe...maybe i'll just sleep here..._ " he thought blearily, his mind groggy from exhaustion. The night sky shone with thousands of stars, the lack of clouds or light pollution allowing a clear view. Fix might have admired it's beauty had he not passed out the moment his face made contact with the ground.

* * *

"Uh, hey guys. Think you're gonna want to see this."

Ezra woke with a start, his head resting on his fist as he leaned on the holotable. Kanan had them do some more meditation, and Ezra used this opportunity to catch up on the much needed sleep Kanan had robbed him of.

He looked to Zeb, Kanan opening his eyes off to the side. "What's up?" Hera said next to the caf machine (when did she come in?), beating Kanan, who looked like he was about to ask the same thing.

Zeb scratched the back of his head, "Err, just come'n take a look, yeah?" He said, motioning with his head for them to follow him as he made his way back into the hallway. Hera and Kanan exchanged confused glances as Ezra rubbed his eyes. He stood up slowly, following Kanan and Hera as they went down the ladder to the Ghost's loading ramp. He was tired, but the look on Zeb's face worried him, and he decided, just this once, that using this opportunity to sneak to his bunk and sleep is not the best idea.

They exited the Ghost, making their way down the ramp. A chilly gust of wind made Ezra shiver, slightly more awake than he was before. "Zeb, what's this all abou-...oh." Hera's eyes widened, and Kanan raised an eyebrow. Ezra, walked around them, and his mouth formed a small 'o' when he saw what they were looking at.

" _This morning just got a whole lot more interesting._ "


	5. Chapter 5

Ayyy, chapter 5. Sorry for the delays, real life takes priority. Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

" _This morning just got a whole lot more interesting._ "

Ezra stood next to his crew, still looking at the unmoving trooper. This was really the last thing he was expecting, but it sure woke him up from his previous drowsy state. " _What in the world was a Stormtrooper, of all things, doing way out here, all alone?_ " His mind briefly entertained the thought of a trap or ambush, but he quickly dispelled it. It made no sense. He didn't even know if the trooper was alive.

Kanan seemed to mirror his thoughts with his question. "Is he uh...dead?" He asked, his arms folded across his chest as he stood next to Hera, one eyebrow raised. His eyes were still on the trooper laying in the grass.

"I uh...I don't know, haven't checked yet." Zeb admitted, shrugging. He didn't really know what to think either, but Ezra had a feeling he had some of the same thoughts as he did, because Zeb was scanning the horizon, towards where the trooper most likely came from before he collapsed.

The sun was rising, painting them and everything around in a bright orange hue, slowly warming everything it touched. Kanan scratched his head before speaking. "Well, we should probably check." But he made no motion to move, Zeb giving him a deadpan stare. "And when you say 'we', you mean 'me' right?" he asked. Kanan just nodded, and the Lasat groaned before taking a few cautious steps around the trooper.

Zeb eyed him up before shrugging. He kicked the E-11 blaster away, and used his foot to turn the trooper over from laying on his stomach to laying on his back. Zeb recoiled when the trooper flipped, taking a step back. "Eugh." He exclaimed. Hera covered her mouth, and Kanan simply looked on.

Ezra, curious, stepped closer, and saw why they had all reacted in such a way. The Stormtroopers normally ice white armor was stained heavily in dried, dark red blood, notably the two bloody hand prints on his helmet. It looked...gruesome. It was the best way Ezra could describe it. Zeb spoke first, "That's a lot of blood."

"No kidding." Kanan responded, kneeling down as he examined the body. There sure was a lot of blood, but something seemed...off. "So, he's dead then?" Zeb asked, giving the body a slight nudge with his foot. There was no response. Kanan examined the body closer as Ezra walked up, nudging Kanan through the force, informing him he felt the same off feeling.

"Let's find out." Said Kanan, carefully reaching for the troopers blood stained helmet. He turned the Stormtroopers head at a slight angle, his finger feeling for a pulse. He had to amplify his touch slightly with the force due to the troopers padded neck covering. " _Funny,-_ " Kanan thought, " _-the same weak spot we use to take them down, were using to see if they're alive._ " Kanan closed his eyes, and felt.

" _...There!_ " His eyes snapped open, the feint heartbeat actually shocking him. Ezra looked up from the troopers blood stained helmet to Kanan when his eyes opened. Ezra knew immediately, which only furthered his confusion. There was so much blood, but no visible wounds on the trooper himself. Almost as if..."The blood isn't his." Ezra stated matter-of-factly.

Everyone looked to him, Kanan speaking first. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the blood he's covered in is _not_ his. It's dry, there are no wounds, and he's still breathing. Somethings up." Ezra responded.

Kanan looked at Ezra for a moment before eying the trooper again. He gave him a quick look over, before confirming what Ezra had said. "He's right. The trooper isn't injured, which means-"

He was cut off by a sharp intake of breath, followed by raspy, dry coughs.

* * *

Fixxer's wake up was unpleasant.

It wasn't really the foggy voices, or the fact that the shining sun was blinding him.

He was thirsty. So, so thirsty.

"W-water..." He shakily managed to breath out, falling into another spasm of coughs as soon as the words left his mouth. He didn't know where he was, or who was around him. For all he knew, he had been caught. But right now, it didn't matter, all that did was his dry mouth and parched throat.

Finally, Fix stopped coughing, his body so exhausted and dehydrated that he did not have the energy to even look around to see who had come upon him. He simply laid there, his mind too muddled to even begin a comprehensible thought about running...or even moving for that matter. After a few moments, he could feel his helmet slowly get pulled off, before something cold and metal met his lips. Water. Sweet, glorious, cold water. He drank greedily, not stopping until he couldn't stop himself from coughing again, and the cup left his lips.

Kanan lifted the cup away, glancing at Ezra, who still had the helmet in his hands. Zeb was looking at the man cautiously, while Hera had gone back to the Ghost, most likely to inform Sabine and Chopper about their unexpected...arrival.

He waited for the trooper to stop coughing before gently giving him a few more sips of water. He stopped, letting the man come to before he spoke again.

* * *

A strange voice, somewhere to his right, he didn't recognize it, but the voice gave him water, so he listened.

"Hey, you with us?"

He tried to speak, to respond, but all that came out was a pained grunt as he flexed his fingers, trying to get a back to normal.

"I don't think he's with us." He heard another voice say, this one younger, to his left. " _I'm here._ " he thought desperately, as if his confirmation was the only thing keeping these people from throwing him in a grave. He weakly attempted to raise his arm, succeeding slowly. His hand lifted a bit, before falling back to the ground.

"Nah, he's with us." He heard an accented voice say. Slowly, Fixxer opened his eyes, the blinding sun stopped only by the people leaning over him. He saw a man and a boy, no, a teenager, looking at him. He couldn't read their faces, partly due to their stony expressions and partly due to the fact that things were fading in and out, his eyes as hazy as his mind. It took a few blinks before he could see clearly again.

Kanan and Ezra looked down, watching the troopers every move. Ezra doubted the man could even stand up, let alone attack or run. He sighed, looking to Kanan. "I say we take him to the medical bay." Zeb spoke up at that. "I second that. He'll be confined, n' we'll be able to watch 'im."

Kanan continued to watch the trooper for a moment, noting how he didn't seem fully there, even with his eyes jumping around. "Yeah, we'll do that." He didn't like Imperials, but they couldn't risk letting a Stormtrooper get away with information on them, their ship, and one of their rendezvous points. That, and leaving someone to die to the elements wasn't something Kanan was exactly jumping to do.

He sighed, standing up as he did so. Ezra stood up as well, the helmet still in his hands. Kanan turned to Zeb. "I'll grab his legs, you get his arms."

Zeb nodded, picking the man up. He had no love for bucket-heads either, but he knew leaving a defenseless person to die was something...something the Empire would do. They moved towards the Ghost's ramp.

Ezra stood, watching the delirious man be picked up and moved. He clutched the helmet, his face betraying no emotions. These were the people who killed for the Empire. They were the ones who ruined his planet, his home, his _life_. They took his parents from him, left him to fend for himself in the streets for years. And now, here they were, helping one of them. He knew they couldn't just leave the trooper, but that thought didn't do much to soothe his raging emotions.

He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose before following them up the ramp.

" _Dammit._ "


	6. Chapter 6

Here's chapter 6. I figure my upload schedule will probably be about a chapter or two a week. Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

" _Dammit._ "

* * *

Fixxer's eyes shot open, a difference from the last time he had awoken. He saw nothing but white before his eyes adjusted fully to the brightness of the room he was in, but even then, there were no real distinguishing features other than a few cupboards and medical supplies on the table next to him, a table that also held familiar cup. Other than that, bland white walls stared back at him.

Fix flexed his fingers lightly, relieved at the ease of his movements. He was struck with the hazy memory of attempting the same thing, but with much more difficulty. Slowly, the memories of the past day came back, and the feeling in his gut he had grown to hate returned.

It was around this moment Fixxer was hit with another dilemma, when he tried to lift his right hand to grasp the cup of water to his side. It stopped abruptly with a ' _clink!_ ', his hand locked at the wrist by a metal cuff to the bed he was laying on. His left hand, he noticed however, was not shackled. He wasn't on an Imperial base, that he knew. The walls in Imperial medical facilities were a gunmetal gray, and somehow managed to be even more bland than the room he was in at the moment.

He reached with his free hand, grabbing the cup full of water. He briefly remembered the moment of pure ecstasy he felt the first time the cold metal cup had touched his lips. Again, he soothed his cracked lips and parched throat, ever thankful his captors had shown mercy by leaving at least one hand free. " _Speaking of...who found me?_ " He looked around for any possible clues to his whereabouts, or to who had found him. Nothing but the white walls. Fix wondered if he should try something to make a break for it, but his exhausted, hungry body protested any action, not to mention the lock around his wrist. " _Whoever i'm with clearly doesn't trust me._ "

He sat up in the bed, one hand supporting him as he tried to move comfortably around the other. Being handcuffed was not a sensation Fix was used to, as usually _he_ was the one doing the 'cuffing. He gazed around the bright room again, looking for...anything really. His eyes finally settled on himself, or more, to what he was wearing. He was still in his armor, but he noticed his helmet was nowhere in site, and his suit had been...cleaned? There was only a light orange tinge where the blood had been before, and Fixxer was somewhat relieved he would no longer have to stare at that horrible reminder.

"It doesn't change what happened." He thought solemnly, eyes closing in fear he would shed a tear at the memory. Years at the academy had taught him not to show any sign of weakness in front of anybody. Those times were for when you were alone, and nobody could see you hurt. He brought his free hand to his face, wiping downwards as he dispelled the thoughts. " _Sulking is for another time, right now, I need answers._ "

As if to answer his thoughts, the door to the room he was in opened, and in came...a droid? It was a C1-series astromech droid, an old one at that, Clone Wars ere maybe. It rolled in, beeping. It came to a sudden stop when it noticed Fix looking back at it, before it waved a mechanical arm wildly in the air, beeping sporadically as it hit a quick 180, beeping back out into the hallway which Fixxer only caught a glimpse of before the door shut again. " _Uh-oh._ " He thought. That surely wasn't a good sign.

A sense of panic hit him. "This could be bad, really bad." He thought, eyes desperately searching the room once again, and again, finding nothing to aid in his escape. If these people felt the need to lock him to the bed, it was a safe bet they didn't like troopers of the Empire. "Even former ones." Fix thought bitterly. He sat up fully, legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He ran his free hand through his short brown hair, basking in the calming effect it had on him. One that ended all too abruptly.

His focus shot back to the door when he heard the distinct 'swoosh' as it came open.

* * *

"Kanan, Chopper says our guest is awake."

Kanan opened his eyes slowly as he came to from his meditation, his gaze resting on Hera standing in the doorway. He closed his eyes for a moment again, letting out a deep sigh before he stood up.

Hera gave a small nod as they both made their way from his quarters and down the hall. Another 'swoosh' and Ezra stepped from his room. "I'm coming with you." He said matter-of-factly. "He's locked up, he won't try anything." Kanan responded. "I know." Ezra said, following anyway. Hera just raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She could see there was something else, but decided not to comment. It could always be brought up later, she thought.

"Oh come on, _everybody_?" Kanan exclaimed when he saw Sabine and Zeb silently talking outside of the medical bay, his brow furrowing. "Oi, jus' wanna make sure the bucket doesn't try nothin'." Zeb said, and Sabine gave a curt nod in agreement. Kanan sighed as he walked to the door. He gave one last look around the group, seeing Hera's anxious face, Zeb's slight scowl, Sabine's curious look, and Ezra's...unreadable face. His expression was blank, and Kanan was slightly taken aback. "Can worry about it later," he thought, "right now, there are more important things."

And with that, he opened the door, stepping in with his crew.

* * *

Fixxer was overwhelmed when he saw the amount of people-no, beings that entered the room.

Three humans, an adult and two teenagers, a giant purple...animal? A green Twi'lek, and the same astromech droid that had entered earlier. He gave the droid a sour look for bringing it's friends, before his eyes met the adult humans, who he assumed was the leader of this group by the way he carried himself.

They entered tactically, the leader taking a seat right across from Fix, one of the teens next to him, the other female teen leaning on the door next to the Twi'lek. The purple one went to the other side of the room, standing with his arms crossed. They were all...looking at him. It was unsettling, but he did his best to keep his cool.

There was a moment of silence as the group took their positions, the expressions on their faces about the same between the six (excluding the droid) It was a mix of intrigue and distaste. Fix fidgeted slightly, a slight sweat forming on his brow as he looked between the group.

The leader studied Fixxer's face as Fix removed any emotion, just how he was taught if he ever was interrogated or tortured. The man leaned back in the chair, speaking.

" _This is one hell of a situation you've gotten yourself into._ "


	7. Chapter 7

Heyo people, Tech here. I know it's been a while since the last chapter, sorry about that. Here you go with chapter 7.

* * *

" _This is one hell of a situation you've gotten yourself into._ "

Fixxer gulped, his worry increasing at the mans words. " _That's not a good start._ " He thought.

The man did not speak for a moment, reading Fixxer's face. Fixxer kept his eyes locked onto the mans, fearing his nervousness would show if he began glancing around the room. He didn't know where he was, or who these people were, so he was not going to reveal any information he didn't need to.

"What was a Stormtrooper like you doing all the way out in the plains of Lothal?" The man questioned, and Fixxer silently noted that the man said 'was.' " _Which means i'm either not in the plains, or not on Lothal._ " He thought, " _This could be bad or good._ "

"Running." He said, slightly surprised at how coarse his voice sounded. The man raised an eyebrow, but made no other motion.

"Running...running from what?"

"The Empire."

Fixxer could see the shift in the room as they took in his words. The man in front of him continued to stare, and the teenager next to him had a skeptical look on his face.

"A Stormtrooper...running _from_ the Empire?" Zeb said, giving a small chuckle that Fixxer could tell contained no humor. The leader with the pony-tail asked the question Fix had been dreading the whole time.

"Why?"

Fixxer shifted a bit, eyes glancing at the orange tinge of his armor for a moment before he looked back up. "I...I did something I shouldn't have." He said, eyes dropping to the palm of his hands. The first sign of weakness he had shown to these people, but he didn't care anymore. Pain was twisting his insides, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw the girl in his arms again. " _Eyes open_." he decided, looking back to the leader sitting across from him.

Didn't follow orders eh?" The big purple one chimed in, what looked like a smug grin on his face. Fixxer just shook his head.

"I followed orders." The purple ones smile faltered slightly.

He knew what was coming, they were oging to ask whim what he had done, but Fix didn't know if he had the strength to tell the truth. Luckily, he was spared a moment as the green Twi'lek in the door way spoke.

"If you were running from the Empire," she started "why did you keep your blaster? You could have left it somewhere in the plains." She said, one brow raised, a skeptical look on her face. The purple one chuckled, chiming in again. "What were you gonna do, fight the _Empire_?" he said, the smirk plastered on his face again, but Fix could see the small trail of uncertainty.

"No."

The response was quick, and it took a moment, but Fix could see the implication of his words as exactly what he had said sunk in.

"O-oh." The purple one was no longer grinning. Thankfully, the leader changed the subject. "When we found you, you were covered in blood," he said, eyeing the orange stains for a half-second before looking back up at Fixxer, "care to explain that?"

Fixxer remained silent, his stomach curling as he decided how to word his response. The last thing he wanted to do was recall the events of the past day, sorrow twisting his heart.

* * *

Kanan could see the trooper tense when he asked the question, the way his eyes conveyed... _pain_ , as if they were asking-no, begging him not to ask.

The room was silent, not even a quip from Zeb. The answer to Hera's question had taken them off guard. The crew had expected a defiant, stubborn trooper, one loyal to the Empire resisting their interrogation. Instead, they got...this. Kanan could _feel_ the self-doubt practically oozing off the guy. It reminded him of someone questioning everything they ever knew. It reminded him of...himself.

When the Republic fell and the Jedi were all but eradicated, Kanan was forced to re-think his life, and the choices that led him to that moment. He questioned many things, the people he once believed to to be his allies, his comrades in battle had turned on him. His trust had been broken.

But that was a long time ago, and Kanan brought his awareness back to the present.

* * *

" _I'd care not to._ " Fixxer thought about saying, but decided against it. He figured these people had to be rebels, which meant they didn't need much of a reason to send him right out of the airlock.

But really, there wasn't much to lose anymore. Everything he had done that lead up to that moment in the village had been for the Empire. He found purpose when he joined, family, and a sense of duty. But most of all, he felt honor, honor to be serving the great Empire that provided stability and _peace_ to the vast galaxy. At least, that's what they they told him.

But there was no peace that day in the settlement. There was no stability, no honor.

Only death.

The blood of the innocent was on his hands. He was told in the academy that emotion was weakness, that to be effective, you must shut yourself off. And he did, for so long, he did. But the things he saw that night shook his _soul_. He would never forget.

* * *

The trooper hesitated for a moment, shifting where he sat before answering.

"I..." He cleared his throat. "I killed someone." He said, almost in a whisper. He was speaking to them, but his eyes, Ezra noticed, were somewhere else. Nobody said anything, so he took a short moment to compose himself, before continuing the explanation. He told them of the mission, of the suspected rebel ties in the village. Their eyes widened, faces falling when he detailed where the settlement was located.

"Tarkintown..." Ezra whispered.

Zeb cursed, Sabine's fists clenching as the trooper told them what had taken place. Ezra's anger only grew, but Kanan brushed him with the Force, calming him. " _We need to know more._ "

"What about the survivors?" Hera asked, almost desperately.

The trooper looked her in the eyes, "I-I don't know exactly, but I heard something about the outer rim and...Imperial mining facilities." he finished solemnly.

Zeb pushed off the wall, growling as he made his way to the trooper. "I oughtta' rip out your-" "Zeb!" Kanan interrupted, standing in between the Lasat and the trooper. Zeb was glaring daggers, but the trooper made no move, his eyes now back again to the palms of his hands.

Zeb relaxed at Kanan's look, backing off with a huff. He could wring the Stormtroopers neck _after_ the interrogation.

Kanan sat back down, sighing, his hands brought together. "So, you raided and burned Tarkintown-" Fixxer cringed when Kanan said 'you'. "-but you still haven't told us what happened to _you_."

"My...team was ordered to clear the north part of the village, but...we came up on a shack." He looked away from Kanan back to the floor, his hands clutching each other nervously.

"They said there were rebels, they said-" his voice broke, so he stopped himself to compose. His eyes closed for a moment, fighting the stinging that signalled tears, giving a deep sigh before he opened his eyes to continue again. "We got the order, command told us not to bother with it, just 'light the place up and get it over with', so..."

"So?" Kanan repeated, an eyebrow raised.

"So...we did." Ezra could feel the variety of emotions in the room. On one side, the crew stood judging like a jury, distrust and some resentment as they watched the trooper. On the other side, Ezra could feel the sorrow and self-doubt. His attention came back to the present when the trooper began again.

"But," the trooper continued, "there...weren't any rebels-" he said, almost in a whisper. Kanan leaned forward, and Ezra had a feeling they weren't going to like the answer to the next question.

"What happened?" Kanan asked in a low town, emphasizing both words.

Fixxer looked up from the floor, directly into Kanan's eyes. "It was a _family._ " His voice choked at the last word.

* * *

Images of the family, the little girl and her mother flashed in his mind. Blood, there was so much blood. He felt the tears slowly run down his face, his eyes still locked onto the pony-tailed leaders.

"I killed someones _child_. I killed their little girl." Fixxer broke, his eyes dropped to his hands, but all he could see was red. Blood coated his armor, his hands. Blood from an innocent little girl who _he_ murdered. He shut his eyes, refusing to let the tears flow anymore. It was too much, he just wanted the pain to end, but he knew there was only one way for that to happen. The pain wouldn't leave, it never could.

* * *

Zeb was _pissed_. First, they undo all of the Ghost crews hard work, burn Tarkintown, and then _this!_

"You're a _coward!_ " He spat venomously, advancing on the trooper. This time, Kanan made no move to stop him. "I'm not surprised you just ran away."

The trooper jerked angrily, the handcuff stopping him with a sharp 'clink!'. "I didn't just run! I had to know, I had to know if I could save her. I-I'm a medic, I had to know if I could save her! I should have saved her..." He looked away from Zeb, whispering. "But...but I couldn't." His eyes were lost, and he was repeating a whisper to himself like a mantra. "I should have saved her...I should have saved her...I should have..."

The image of the blood covered trooper flashed through Zeb's mind, and the troopers story slowly started to add up. But that did nothing to soothe Zeb's anger.

"You're _dead!_ "

" _Zeb!_ "


End file.
